Choices We Make
by Jera1
Summary: *Updated* After Sam and Frodo are captured in a land previously thought uninhabited, unlikely allegiances are formed. In time a choice will have to be made that will change everyone's lives. Is the choice the right one? Read it, you might even like it!
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: Um, Tolkien's work is his own, mine is my own. I only wish I had the talent and imagination that man had! And, I only want to own Sam, no one else. Pretty please?  
  
Ok, I'm giving this a shot and if you like this story, please, please review it!! If I get enough reviews, I'll post the next part, if not, I might post the next part anyway (but, probably not)! I'm not really sure where I'm going with this, but it'll most likely be an interesting ride.  
  
  
  
Sam stuck close to Frodo, not an easy task since the two of them were being jostled about and herded like so many sheep. A promise was a promise; he would not lose Mr. Frodo no matter what. Before they had even broken camp that morning swords had been pointed in faces, and weapons had been confiscated.  
  
Four horsemen, one at each point of the compass, were the ones responsible for the herding of the two frightened 'sheep'. All looked worn and grim…and confused. There was much debate on if they should even bother with Frodo and Sam; but in the light of recent events it was decided that it would be safer to take the two prisoners back with them.  
  
Across a bloody, body part strewn battlefield they had been marched, making the bright sunshine seem cold on their backs in the face of so much death. Groups moved around, loading some corpses into piles, and others were placed onto wooden carts. In the distance the highest turrets of a fortress were coming into view.  
  
"I don't like the looks of this, Mr. Frodo," Sam said, leaning closer to the frail hobbit.  
  
"Nor do I, Sam, but what choice do we have?"  
  
Sam looked at Frodo and knew the choices were between few and none. It was originally thought that this part Middle Earth was uninhabited, what a surprise it was to greet the sun with a sword in your face. Not the best way to start the day, Sam thought. Memories of mornings past in the Shire came to mind, first breakfast cooking on the fire. The round yellow face of the sun peaking over the green hills, birds singing, and his Gaffer calling to him to put both feet on the floor soon or he'd be sorry, make no mistake. A small sigh escaped before he could stop himself. He would have never thought it possible for a grown hobbit to be so homesick.  
  
Frodo heard the sigh and slipped a cold hand into Sam's warmer one, a small gesture that never failed to comfort Sam, even in the darkest of hours. "We'll be ok, Sam, we will."  
  
The front of the fortress loomed before them now, the large iron doors opened wide, and men milled around the courtyard within. Sorrow was etched in every face they met, and every man bore an injury somewhere on his person.  
  
A small stream ran down one side of the courtyard and into a stone pool, miniature rainbows hovered above the water's surface. Trees and flowers were abundant, a riot of colors and smells assaulting the eyes and nose. Sam looked about, momentarily forgetting about the four guards in trying to see if any of the plants were familiar to him.  
  
"I haven't seen such a pretty bit of earth since we left the Shire," Frodo breathed, wide blue eyes trying to take in all details at once.  
  
"Aye, Mr. Frodo, it's lovely. Reminds me much of Bag End in the spring, it does."  
  
"Master, Mistress," the lead horseman said, bowing his head at the pair standing in the courtyard next to the stream.  
  
  
  
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Durein wiped her hands on already dirty clothes, nodded to the only other woman in the room, Isliene, and exited the tiny room that smelled of death and hopelessness. Into the high arched stone hallway she walked, past other tiny rooms filled with the dead and dying. Anguished moans and cries dogged her footsteps, nipping at her heels even as she pulled on the iron ring that opened the heavy wooden door that lead to the outside.  
  
Green gently rolling hills met her tired eyes, the smell of fresh earth and growing things wafted to her on a stiff breeze. How she loved the land she had fought for, the land that so many good people had died for. Her father…Durein bit her lip hard…her father would have been proud of what she had done today. She had leaded her people into the final battles again the Orcs, the battles after her father had fallen.  
  
It was a sad day because many lost families, friends, and homes in the past few weeks they had been under siege. A way of life had died; a new way would be born and nurtured in the coming years. In the end even some of the women had gone out to fight for their children and to protect what was left of their livelihood. Durein had been one of the few to do so. The blood that soiled her tunic was her own, not only the blood of those she killed and those she helped to heal. 'Can't think of those I killed today, must concentrate on those that I help live.' The thought brought a strangled sob to her throat; she swallowed it back and dug her ragged fingernails into the palms of her hands. 'Have to stay in control. I can fall apart later…when this is over, when we're all safe again.'  
  
The Orcs had come out of the north, sweeping across their very doorstep, looking for someone called the "Ring bearer". Durein herself now bore a ring, her father's ring of office, but the ring the Orcs had been searching for was unheard of here. It was a ring of power and evil, desired by a dark lord in a far off land. It didn't matter to them though, that no such ring resided here, their kind liked to kill, to pillage. It was a point of pride that more Orc carcasses littered the battlefield than of her people.  
  
"Mistress, a word, please," murmured a voice at her elbow. The man had come up beside her while she had been lost in thought, now she turned to face him.  
  
"Master Blian, yes, what do you need?" And she forced a shadow of a smile onto her lips.  
  
Blian rubbed his hands together and seemed reluctant to meet Durein's eyes. Instead he looked to the same hills that she had been studying moments before, it looked to her like he was gathering the courage to speak his mind.  
  
"Mistress, this is not the time to trouble you," he began. "But, I'm afraid it is of great importance."  
  
Durein walked to the small stream that ran into the courtyard, with the intent of washing the blood off her hands. It was a stalling gesture, something to give her time to gather her scattered wits about her. The blood tinged the crystal water pink, washing away the gore of countless men and Orcs. It seemed a sacrilege to taint the water with the leavings of such evil creatures. It also seemed she would never be able to scrub the vileness from her hands.  
  
She splashed cool water on her face; an inkling of what Blian had come to tell her was in her mind. She was the only one left to lead her people in this time of chaos and death, just as he was the only one left to lead his. There was much now that was of great importance.  
  
"There is the matter of the dead to be buried, temporary shelter to be erected for the survivors, and of food for all," Durein sighed. She rubbed her eyes with the fingertips of still damp hands; the beginnings of a headache were forming. "I say send out volunteers to gather our dead and to pile what is left of the Orcs up and set fire to them. Then use the east courtyard to set up what we have that can be used as tents, more volunteers can be on hand to cook food and pass it out. We're lucky it's not winter, otherwise everyone would freeze."  
  
She toyed with the ring that hung on a chain around her neck; it was far too large for her hand. The ornately carved silver band was all that was left of her father. She thought hard about what her father would do if he had survived. Was there anything that needed to be done that she was forgetting? There was a half formed thought bubbling to the surface when a voice rang out on the turret.  
  
"Riders coming in! Looks like they have prisoners!"  
  
Durein stood and watched the four horsemen ride in the gate with two halflings walking hand in hand in the center. One was pale, but had large lovely blue eyes. The other was heavier, darker in color and had brown eyes. Both were quite handsome, but the darker hobbit's protective stance over his companion caused a peculiar sliding sensation in Durein's middle. She remembered a time not so long ago when she was the one being protected…instead of the one doing the protecting.  
  
For the first time Sam and Frodo noticed the two figures standing off to the side. One was an older, stately man, the other…the other figure was not to be believed. It was a hobbit. A hobbit lass no less.  
  
~~tbc~~ 


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah. You know what's mine and what isn't. I just want to own Sam, that's all, nothing else? Please???  
  
Thanks so much for the reviews! I'm so thrilled to see that *someone* read my story and liked it! God bless you! And, so, here is Chapter 2. Enjoy it, and then review it! Pretty please with sugar on top?? If I get no reviews, I probably won't post Chapter 3.  
  
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"Bless me, Mr. Frodo, are you seein' what I'm seein'?" Sam whispered, his eyes going wide and his mouth gaping open.  
  
"A hobbit!" Frodo rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "I must be dreaming!"  
  
"Beggin' yer pardon, but I don't think we can be both havin' the same dream!"  
  
"Master, Mistress," the lead horseman said, bowing his head at the pair standing in the courtyard next to the stream.  
  
Durein inclined her head slightly in greeting, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Blian do the same.  
  
"Yes, Captain?" Durein asked, still eyeing the hobbit duo. The quickly whispered exchange and wide eyes made her wonder what was going on. There was something about them that was…odd. She just couldn't quite put her finger on it.  
  
"We found these two early this morn. We thought it wise to bring them here since Orcs may still be about."  
  
At the mention of Orcs, the blue-eyed hobbit became impossibly paler, and the other's hand automatically went to an empty scabbard. 'Definitely something odd going on here', Durein thought.  
  
"A wise decision indeed," Blian praised, "One cannot be too careful in times such as these. Please, please," he said, waving the entourage in the direction of the stables, "go, and rest yourselves and your mounts. I think we can handle things from here."  
  
A last doubtful eye was cast toward the pair of halflings then the guards broke formation and went to claim much desired rest.  
  
Blian turned his full attention to the new arrivals and a weary smile stole across his face. "I am Master Blian, this is Mistress Durein, we are keepers of this castle and leaders of our respective peoples. You must excuse our hospitality. The past few weeks have been trying, as I'm sure you know. Now, if I may ask, what are your names? Which village are you from? Do you have any others from your village that will be arriving soon?"  
  
The one with crystal blue eyes stepped forward, finally dropping the hand of his friend. "I-I am Frodo Baggins of Hobbiton, The Shire." He gestured at his companion. "This is Samwise Gamgee, also of Hobbiton, The Shire." Sam bobbed his head awkwardly in greeting.  
  
Durein blinked stupidly, The Shire? Hobbiton? She pursed her lips and wracked her weary mind but could think of no such village in their providence by that name. A sideways glance at Blian showed his forehead wrinkled in concentration as he also tried to place the location of this 'Shire'.  
  
"Beggin' yer pardon, missus, we didn't know of no other hobbits other than around the Shire," Sam burst out, looking closely at Durein. "To be honest, we didn't know of no other people at all in these parts."  
  
It was then Durein put her finger on what was so odd about the new arrivals. Their clothes were unlike anything the local hobbits wore. The facial features and coloring were also just a tiny bit different from her people, not enough though to cause them to be unable to assimilate with the others. It was no wonder they gave her such strange looks, they had no idea that there were hobbits in places other than their Shire.  
  
"There have been hobbits, and men, coexisting in these parts for centuries. We didn't know of any 'Shire' until today," Durein replied, still mentally reviewing the differences between her and the new arrivals. It was just a little unsettling at how closely the one named Samwise was studying her, though. Admittedly, she didn't look her best in blood stained clothes…but then, who did? She was horrified to feel a slow flush working its way up her throat and into her face. Self-consciously, she brushed at the filthy tunic she still hadn't found time to change.  
  
Blian asked, "Where is this 'Shire' you speak of? What is it like?"  
  
Frodo then gave them a general idea of where the Shire was. "It's beautiful, most beautiful place I've seen," he sighed. His heart was still in Bag End, and walking along the roads of Hobbiton.  
  
"Aye, reminds me a bit of this small garden here," Sam chimed in softly, craning his neck this way and that to see what treasures the stone walls contained.  
  
Durein was relived to see that Samwise's attention had finally been captured by something else, then her lips split in a small smile. It had been many weeks since anyone had been able to enjoy the garden her father had loved so well. A spot of warmness began to banish the cold around her heart from seeing the light and the wonder in Samwise's eyes. Other things were reflected in Samwise's eyes--exhaustion, hunger, and a deep sadness. Frodo didn't look much better. It had obviously been a long road they had traveled together.  
  
"Master Samwise, you have my permission to look around this courtyard to your heart's content. In the mean time," here Durein paused, glancing quickly to Blian, "We bid you welcome and are invited to partake of what little we have to offer. Please, come this way." Turning she began to lead the hobbits out of the courtyard.  
  
Sam's cheeks turned a bright red at being called 'Master' and Frodo chuckled at his embarrassment. It was the first real laugh Sam had heard from Mr. Frodo in a long while. It was worth the unwanted attention to see color come back into his face and the sparkle in his eyes.  
  
~~tbc~~  
  
Short, I know. One of those 'transition' chapter things. Hang with me; the next chapter will probably be longer. 


	3. Chapter Three

Disclaimer: You know the drill….  
  
Thanks again for the reviews! I'm so glad *someone* is reading this and enjoys it! Feel free to leave a review this time too! I love 'em!  
  
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Sudden business had taken Blian to a separate destination, so it was Durein that brought the hobbits into the 'hobbit' section of the temporary refugee camp.  
  
She waved a hand at the throng of hobbits that were doing what they could to set up comfortable quarters for them and their kin. All were weary and heartbroken, as only those that had lost everything could be. "This is where the hobbits from the outlying villages came when the Orcs attacked. It will be tomorrow before we can start moving them into more permanent quarters inside the fortress itself."  
  
Sam looked uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot, being dumbfounded by the number of hobbits in the small courtyard. He had always been a slightly clumsy, awkward hobbit that never really felt he fit in with his peers. The sight of so many new faces unnerved him.  
  
"Over here, you will be given food," and she gestured at the tents that already had patrons in line. "What we still have to spare is not much, but I suppose it's better than going without," Durein added, and then folded her lips into a straight line.  
  
Times were, before the raids, her father's and Master Blian's table was laden with more food than could be eaten by a hundred hobbits. Now it was a struggle to feed the 75 or so hobbit lads, lasses, and children still alive. She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. She sighed again, the back of her neck was gritty, she got the feeling the dirt and gore wasn't ever going to come off.  
  
"It will be wonderful, whatever there is to eat. I'm sure it will be better than the food we've had to eat during our travels," Frodo said truthfully, eyeing the steaming caldrons of soup and golden loaves of bread. Lembas was filling, but rather bland. It would be a rare treat to eat something with flavor.  
  
"Aye, missus, we're grateful for whatever you have to spare," Sam agreed. His mouth was watering at the aroma wafting his way. He was sure nothing could beat the cooking back home, but as his Gaffer would say "When you don't have anything, take what you can get." Temporarily, the sight of so many unfamiliar hobbits was forgotten once his stomach took over the thinking.  
  
"MOMMA!" a childish squeal was heard only seconds before a small bundle of energy slammed into Durein. Behind the blur, an elderly hobbit lass trudged, a look of infinite patience on her time worn face.  
  
Picking the hobbit child up, Durein soundly kissed him on the cheek and turned to face Isliene. "Wouldn't stay put, would he?"  
  
"Nay, he's stubborn, just as his mother was at that age. And as stubborn as his mother still is, if I may say so."  
  
A wrinkled up nose and a smile was the only answer to that statement and then Durein turned to face her two newest charges.  
  
"Master Frodo Baggins, Master Samwise Gamgee, I would like to introduce you to my son, Teren," Durein said, pride evident in her voice. "Teren, can you say hello to the gentlehobbits?"  
  
In response, Teren wound his fingers into his mother's long braid and burrowed his face into the side of her neck.  
  
Durein chuckled, "He's usually not this shy. Give him time to become accustomed to you, then he'll talk constantly."  
  
"Momma, you smell bad," Teren said, his voice muffled since his face was still against her neck. "Need a bath!" He looked up at her then, pinching his pert little nose closed with his pudgy thumb and first finger. "Dirty!" He proclaimed, using his other hand to wipe at the stains on her tunic.  
  
"So I do and so I am! I haven't had time to be clean and smell sweet like you have," Durein laughed, catching his hand and kissing the palm. She could see Frodo and Samwise's shoulder's shaking with suppressed laughter and their attempt at hiding large smiles behind their hands. For the second time that day a blush crept up her throat and darkened her already warm cheeks.  
  
Isliene took Teren from her and was wearing a deep frown…that almost always meant she was trying to dampen a smile. "You shouldn't speak so to your mother. Come, its time for your supper, willful child. Mistress, as soon as you are able, please come to your rooms. I will draw you the bath Teren says you need so badly." A faintest hint of a smile hovered at the corners of her mouth.  
  
"I will do so, and thank you, Isliene. Teren, mind Mistress Isliene and I'll be up to see you before you go to sleep."  
  
"Tell me a story then, momma? About the dragons and soldiers and the princess?" Teren asked, huge dark brown eyes pleading with her.  
  
Durein smiled into the eyes and face so like her own. "Yes, a story about the dragons, soldiers, and the princess. Only if you mind Mistress Isliene and are good." She kissed the tips of her fingers and pressed them to Teren's lips. The fat little hand waved goodbye and Isliene took Teren back into the fortress.  
  
"Lad reminds me of Pippin, when he was younger, he does," Sam observed, "Only Pippin's hair is brown instead of black."  
  
"Yes, he does," Frodo, agreed, smiling fondly. His thoughts often strayed to Merry, Pippin, and the rest of the Fellowship, wondering if things were going well with them.  
  
"Pippin?" Durein asked.  
  
"A cousin of Mr. Frodo's. We were traveling together for awhile, then we had to part company."  
  
"I see," she said and nodded. There was more to that than a simple parting of company, of that she was certain, but now was not the time to press for answers. There would be time for that later. "I apologize for the interruption my son caused. He is indeed a stubborn child, much as his mother is, just as Isliene said."  
  
"As I was saying, before Teren arrived, you will be able to receive food from that tent. A little further down there is a place for clean garments and bedding if you have none. We also have a part of the courtyard sectioned off where you can bathe if you wish. As for where to sleep, I'm afraid anywhere you can find a bare patch of earth will have to do. Again, I apologize for what little we have to offer." Durein folded her hands across her stomach and shifted her shoulders inside the stiff, itchy tunic. Hopefully soon she would be able to partake in a bath herself and to change garments.  
  
Frodo reached out and grasped one of her hands. Looking intently into her eyes he said, "What you have offered is more than enough. We are thankful for your kindness and are in your debt."  
  
Sam stepped forward and taking her other hand nodded his thanks. Words were also something he wasn't good at. He started a little at the feeling of the small, rough hand in his own. It was a nice feeling, but he let go of her hand quickly, nonetheless. 'Samwise, don't you be getting any ideas in yer thick head. You have a job to do, lookin' after Mr. Frodo. Don't be gettin' distracted.'  
  
Durein was having thoughts along the same lines; a warm weakness was in the pit of her stomach at the touch of the calloused, warm hand in hers. The directness of his gaze, the sincerity and kindness shown there was hypnotizing. She was half glad, half upset when Samwise dropped her hand. She really wasn't sure why she reacted like that to a simple touch.  
  
"I…if you will both excuse me, I have a few things that must be taken care of before nightfall. I will leave you both to get settled. If you need anything, please send one of the volunteers about to find me. I will do what I can to help you," Durein stated, telling herself that she wasn't running…and she wasn't lying exactly. There were things she had to attend to, and Samwise had nothing to do with her suddenly needing to leave.  
  
Frodo watched Sam watching Durein walk back into the fortress. That was interesting.  
  
"So, Sam, let's pick out a spot for the night, then see about dinner," Frodo began, taking his arm and steering Sam away from where he was rooted and towards an empty spot at the courtyard wall. While leading Sam to the designated spot, he wondered how to broach the subject about their newest benefactor. It turns out he didn't have to.  
  
"You've met the Mistress Durein then, have you?" a pleasant hobbit lass asked. Her attention was divided between the pair making themselves at home next to her 'camp', and the brood of children playing nearby. "Kind of her to take everyone in, what with all that's on her plate right now. Not many would have done it, leader of us all or no."  
  
"Very kind of her to take us in, I agree," Frodo said, unshouldering his pack and rummaging to find an extra blanket to sit on. Sam looked like he wanted to say something but only unshouldered his own pack and flopped on the ground instead.  
  
"Pansy! Here now! Don't pull on your brother's ears! That's not lady like! If I have to tell you one more time to stop, you're going to come sit by me!" the apparent mother of the 8 or 9 children in the brood shouted.  
  
Frodo rubbed his ear where he caught the full blast of the reprimand; maybe this wasn't such a good spot to camp after all. It appeared that no matter what part of Middle Earth you were in, some things about hobbit mothers never changed.  
  
"Like I was saying, the Mistress has been very busy of late, what with her father being killed an all. Such a young thing to have to take on the responsibility of the whole providence with no husband to help her."  
  
Sam quickly looked up at the mention of 'no husband', and then looked at Frodo. It was unheard of for a hobbit lass to have a child out of wedlock. Just how different were things here from the Shire? Frodo spread his hands out in front of him in a gesture that said he was as puzzled as Sam. For a strange reason though, the fact that Durein was unmarried made Sam a little glad.  
  
Salvia in the mean time let lose another blast at her children. "Aladagrim, stop punching your sister in the shoulder! Do you not want supper tonight?"  
  
"The Mistress," Sam hesitantly began, twisting a part of the blanket around his finger, "She's not married?"  
  
"No! A widow now she is. Husband died before her little one was born. Sad thing to hear, even out where I lived. You didn't hear about all that in your village?" Salvia asked, giving them a queer look. It was the topic of gossip for weeks when the sad story had circulated through her town. Many wondered if she would remarry quickly to give her son a father, but so far she remained obstinately on her own. It wasn't because there weren't eligible hobbits around, there were plenty; she just wouldn't marry again for whatever reason.  
  
"No, I'm afraid not. I believe we must have lived farther out on the borders than you did, apparently," Frodo said, making a huge understatement.  
  
"Apparently," Salvia said, not entirely convinced. The curious part of her perked up its head then. "So, my lads, where are you from, exactly? What are you're names? My name's Salvia, in case you're wondering." It would be nice to have a nice tidbit of gossip about the new arrivals to slip in the next time she saw her friends.  
  
"We…we're from the west, the way west. I'm Frodo and this is my friend Sam. What happened to her father exactly?" Frodo asked, trying to distract her away from asking too many questions about him and Sam.  
  
"Her father was killed in one of the raids the Orcs made. Terrible thing, I heard. One big brute knocked him from his horse, and then beat him about a bit before finally killing him. Devastated the lass when she heard, all they could bring back of her father was the ring of office he wore. Pretty silver band she wears around her neck, you'll see it if you look hard enough. After her father fell, she took up the sword in her father's stead and led the soldiers into battle. Routed them off too, she did, wouldn't think it by looking at her she would be able to do that."  
  
'Well, Samwise,' he thought, 'You were wonderin' why she had blood on her, guess it's plain now. Poor lass, losin' her father and then havin' to fight Orcs off her doorstep all in one stroke.' Sam still had his mother and ol' Gaffer back home, least wise he did when he left. He couldn't begin imagine what it was like to not have either of them there waiting on him to come back.  
  
  
  
  
  
Frodo's hand crept to the golden band around his own neck, an eerie feeling making his hair stand on end. Two rings…two burdens that neither wanted to wear. He wondered if she found her ring as hard to bear as he did at times.  
  
"Mr. Frodo, if yer not mindin', I think we should get some food before it gets much later in the evenin'. It's been a long time since we ate last, and you need to keep up yer strength," Sam broke in, seeing Frodo's hand close around the ring. Better to keep his mind off the thing and on more pleasant things---like food.  
  
"Yes, of course, Sam. Please, if you will excuse us," Frodo said as he rose from the blanket.  
  
"Sure enough. Better to get up there before my children get in line, won't be much left after they go through."  
  
Sam peeked again at the small army of hobbit children and decided that it would not be a bad idea at all.  
  
~~tbc~~  
  
Don't forget to review the story on your way out, please and thank you!! 


	4. Chapter Four

Disclaimer: No, I own not even one of Tolkien's characters, even though I'd love to have Sam. Pretty please with sugar on top? Please?  
  
A/N: I'm so very sorry it took so long to update this, that is if anyone was even looking for it to be updated. I'm having wicked writer's block and I see no signs of it really letting up anytime soon. Please, leave a review if you like what you read, I really appreciate it. I'm still very new at this sort of thing and can use all the support I can get! And, thanks SO MUCH to those that have reviewed. I love you all…really…I do.  
  
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An unexpected chill breeze whipped in from the north, cutting through the meager blankets that wrapped tired hobbit bodies. Many were already numb from loss and sorrow, and paid the wind no mind. Others huddled together for warmth, taking a small measure of comfort in having a living person near.  
  
Sam lie on his back, his head pillowed on his arms, and gazed thoughtfully at the night sky. To him, it seemed the brightly sparkling gems were close enough to reach up and snatch from the heavens. When he and Frodo were little and used to camp out behind Bag End, they would look up into the night sky and make pictures from the stars. He smiled briefly at the memory and realized that, even though they were so far from home, the stars in the night sky were the same. It was good to know that a little piece of home was still with them…where ever they went.  
  
Unbidden, memories of him as a young hobbit in a warm, sweet smelling orchard came to his mind. The coarse grass under tough hobbit feet, the heads of colorful flowers nodding at him as he walked by gazing ever upwards to find the next bucketful of apples to shake from the trees. The simple days where the most pressing thing was if old Bilbo would tell them a story of elves that night by the fire while eating fresh apple tarts. Now, the elves from the stories had been seen…and the innocence of youth had been lost when the Ring had been revealed. The days in the warm, sweet smelling orchard were long past and homesickness welled up in Sam again.  
  
Beside him, Frodo slept on, caught up in uneasy dreams. Sam sighed, and turned onto his side to face Frodo. The usually smooth brow was furrowed and his lips were puckered as if he were saying protesting something in his dreams. For half a second, Sam considered shaking Frodo awake, to release him from the dream. Instead, he reached out and smoothed the wrinkles, offering what small comforts he could. Under his touch, Frodo seemed to calm down and fall into a deep, healing sleep and his breathing became more even.  
  
Sam rolled over onto his other side and pulled the blanket more snuggly around his ears. No matter what he did, sleep stayed just out of reach tonight. His belly was full again tonight, for the first time since they had left Lorien he had had regular meals, and he knew they were reasonably safe from Orcs and any other evil that walked in the night. Stone walls thicker than his body and guards every few feet on top of those walls guaranteed that. Maybe it was just the ingrained habit of staying awake for watch while Frodo slept. Whatever the reason, he just wished it would pass so he could get some sleep.  
  
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Durein picked up a candle and pushed open the door that lead into Teren's room. It was late, and as usual, she had long since missed his bed time. She pressed her lips together in regret, and then bent down to drop a kiss on his forehead. This was the reason she had fought, to keep her son innocent and safe.  
  
It was strange to use her hands to tuck in the blankets around her son, the same hands that had just days before taken the lives of countless Orcs. The smell of blood, the cries of the dying, the blood lust, the fear….it all seemed to be a memory from someone else. As if she were standing outside of herself, looking at a person she didn't recognize. She had journeyed into the darkness, and it was not a place she liked to be. It was a fervent hope that she would never have to stand in that dark place again.  
  
Durein turned from her son, and closed the door behind her as she left the room. The large copper tub sat in front of the fire, tendrils of steam beckoning to her. True to her word, Isliene had drawn the promised bath as soon as Durein had come in from one of the council meetings in the Hall. One of the seemingly never ending streams of meetings since the shadow of evil arrived on the doorstep.  
  
Pure bliss washed over her as she sank into the almost scalding water. Knots were soothed from muscles and for the first time in many days, she felt herself relaxing. Her tired mind went over the lists and things she had to remember for the next day. Frustrations seemed to pile up more than accomplishments lately.  
  
Two days had passed since the quarters in the fortress were to be ready for the refugees. The old and injured had already been moved into what space that had been prepared, but many still slept outside on the cold ground. There was plenty of food, for the time being, but soon other means of provisions would have to be thought of. Everyone would have to pull together to plant gardens and to harvest what could be found in the nearby forest.  
  
It had also been two days since the curious pair of hobbits had been found and brought into her care. A small part of her mind constantly went over the possible reasons they had been nearby. She wouldn't admit it, even in the quietest corners of her mind, that she thought more about one of the hobbits than the other. She slapped the water with the flat of her hand, enough of this nonsense! There were more important things to think of than rough hands, a shy smile, and lovely hazel eyes.  
  
She closed her eyes and firmly pushed thoughts of a certain hobbit from her mind. Many other things needed her attention. Things like the fate of her people, and how she was going to help Blian keep the borders secure. Reports of more Orc forces were coming in from scouts in the North.  
  
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The water had grown cold, the fire had died down, and Durein stirred from sleep. She slowly opened her eyes, only to have her heart stumble and then stop all together in her chest. Standing above her was an Orc, his curved blade stained with blood.  
  
Ice ran in her veins and a metallic taste of fear was in her mouth as she realized her sword was hanging by its scabbard on the bed post. No weapon she could see was at hand and it was a slim chance that she could scramble from the tub before the Orc cut her down. Worse still, Teren was in the next room. Was the blood on the sword her son's?  
  
~*tbc*~  
  
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Yes, Alexa, this is short…sorry. Another 'transition/set up chapter'. I'll do better next time, I promise!  
  
I'm also at the point where I can take the *possible* relationship between Sam and Durien to another level. And, I'm curious to know what the readers would like to see happen. Do you want to see them: 1)just remain in the 'angst' sort of stage. They kinda like each other but nothing happens. 2) A relationship happens they like each other, hand holding…romance fluff stuff, or 3) a *relationship*…and I think you should be able to catch my drift. Let me know what you think!  
  
And, don't forget to leave a review on the way out, please! 


	5. Chapter Five

Disclaimer: I don't own Sam or Frodo.but I wouldn't mind borrowing Sam every now and again.  
  
A/N: Thanks so much to everyone that has read this little story and reviewed it. I appreciate it so much! Reading your comments makes me want to keep writing this story!  
  
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A shriek tore Sam from the fitful sleep he had just entered. Half-rising from his blanket, he looked over the still form of Frodo to see an uneven edge of oily blackness moving towards his end of the courtyard. The wave of darkness was picking up the hobbits, roughing them up, and throwing them on the ground. It was only after a moment when his eyes adjusted, did Sam figure out what it was.Orcs.  
  
Hot panic clawed into Sam's throat and he violently shook Frodo awake. "Mr. Frodo.Mr. Frodo.wake up! Orcs sir, lots of 'em, if you follow me!"  
  
"What's that Sam?" Frodo asked, rubbing his eyes, slowly becoming aware that evilness was nearly upon them.  
  
"Orcs, sir. Put on the Ring! If you don't, they'll have you! Hurry! They're lookin' for you and the Ring!"  
  
The huge blue eyes became even wider as Frodo realized what was going on and that Sam was right. The Ring was the cause of the fiasco, but now it would be the only thing to save him from being put into Saruon's hands. Sam's round face was set into determined lines..he liked the idea no more than Frodo did. But what other choice was there?  
  
Frodo quickly slipped the chain bearing the ring over his head, and slipped the cool band of gold over his third finger. He disappeared just before the Orcs reached Sam.  
  
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Durein sat in the cold water, still unsure of what to do, but every muscle tensed for the first opportunity to turn the advantage. The Orc stood above her, the ugly face contorted into a parody of a smile. It knew it had her at the mercy of the blade in its hand.  
  
The Orc walked closer to the tub, and Durein's chin went up, her eyes narrowed. She would not cower before this thing, it was beneath her to be afraid. The sword swung around, coming to rest against her throat, the sharp edge of the blade biting into the skin. A warm trickle of blood mingled with the old blood already there.  
  
Her hands gripped the sides of the tub tighter, feeling the razor edge press harder into her throat. She looked up into the face of the creature above her.and something snapped. She wouldn't sit here and be killed this way. Her hand shot up, and slapped the blade away from her neck, deepening the mark already made by the sword.  
  
At that moment, the door burst open and guards spilled into the room. The first one through distracted the Orc enough for Durein to jump out of the tub and slip-slide across the room for her sword. Unfortunately, that same guard was the first to feel the Orc's blade when his head was separated from his shoulders.  
  
Durein drew her sword and looked in horror at the blood spurting from the fallen guard. It was sickening and sad, the feeling you got when someone traded their life for yours. A hard knot of dread formed in the pit of her stomach.a family would be notified that their son, husband, or brother had died this night.  
  
Gripping the sword tighter in her slippery hand, Durein circled behind the Orc as it fought with the fury of a cornered animal against the remaining guards. It knew that there was no chance of it getting out of this room alive, it was merely trying to take as many down as it could.  
  
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Sam was trying to catch his breath after being picked up, shaken roughly and thrown to the ground. Foul breath had brushed across his face, making him sick to his stomach while he was held tightly by the upper arms, several feet above the ground, while another Orc came over and pawed through his clothes. They were searching for the Ring.Sam knew it as surely as he knew his name.  
  
Soon after, the next hobbit was picked up, roughed up. and bouncing across the ground beside him. It was hard to think in the midst of the widespread panic the surprise attack caused. Little else mattered to Sam at the moment, only one thought was repeated in his head, while his eyes scanned shadow and light.Where was Mr. Frodo?  
  
Hundreds of guards flooded the square then, wading into the dark mass of Orcs. The face of the moon was mostly hidden, shedding little light on the conflict, only dull glinting on the armor and swords. Groans and cries of the fallen guards and unearthly screams of the Orcs echoed from the enclosed walls, adding to the chaos.  
  
Sam felt a hand fall on his shoulder and then a slight squeeze. Looking around, he saw nothing, but knew that it was Mr. Frodo reassuring him that the Ring had not been found. It still lay safe at the base of Frodo's third finger, and the lives of the Orcs were being spent in vain.  
  
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A hot spray of blood covered Durein as she lopped off the head of the Orc. It had made one last bid for freedom, running toward her and the open window behind her. Panting, she weakly lowered her sword and nudged the ghastly head with her toe. Now that it wasn't connected to the body, it looked smaller and somehow less frightening..like the masks the children wore to scare each other on the holidays. The guards began to file out of the room then, only two staying behind to protect Durein. The others were going to search the rest of the fortress for other invaders.  
  
A warm robe slipped over her shoulders and she looked up into the frightened eyes of Isliene. She had been awakened by the noises in the courtyard and had come to Durein's rooms first to look after her and Terran. She had come in just as the Orc had charged for the window.  
  
"Mistress," Isliene finally said, after a few seconds of her mouth working soundlessly. She took a corner of the robe and wiped at the blood on Durein's face and across the cut on her neck. She shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes.  
  
"Teren.is he ok?" Durein asked, to keep Isliene from falling apart now when she was needed the most.  
  
One of the guards that had stayed behind, came out of Teren's room then, holding the lad in the crook of his arm. Teren was still half asleep and had apparently slept through the whole ordeal-fortunately. Durein broke from the nurse to gather her sleeping child in her arms, to hold him close and smell the innocence and cleanness of him. Would it ever stop, the violence, the killing, the ugliness of life was hard too hard to be borne sometimes. She sat rocking him back and forth on the bed, while death was being dealt out in the courtyard below.  
  
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Bodies littered the square, blood staining the once white stepping stones and dark green grasses. Sam sat with his back against the thick outer walls, and watched the remaining hobbit and human guards gather the wounded to be taken inside. The Orcs were placed in their own pile, to be taken outside the gates after daybreak and burned. Not only as a cleansing process, but as a warning to those that continued to hound the borders.  
  
The refugee hobbits were cleaning themselves up, bandaging minor cuts and scrapes, doing general simple things to put things back in order. Small lads and lasses were still be comforted on their parent's knees, while the older children were trying to outdo each other with how brave they were when the Orcs searched them. Sam shook his head, the way youngsters bounced back from things like that.  
  
Mr. Frodo suddenly reappeared beside Sam, hanging the chain with the Ring back around his neck. Looking around, Sam didn't see that anyone noticed, being busy with the mopping up, but it was still dangerous of Mr. Frodo to do. Sam said so.  
  
"Sam, I had to take off the Ring," Frodo said, looking drawn and pale. "Every moment I have the ring on, the easier it is for the Eye to find me." He rubbed his forehead with an unsteady hand. "It also takes so much from me to bear the Ring, much less to wear it for any period of time."  
  
"You there, what wizardry is this? Suddenly appearing from thin air?" A guard was standing before them, with a spear pointed squarely at Frodo's throat.  
  
"Here now! Don't be pointin' no spear at Mr. Frodo!" Sam exclaimed, batting the spear away, ready to fight.  
  
Another guard joined the first, drawing his sword, and eyeing the pair of hobbits sitting against the wall. "Come on then, up with the both of you. You," and he pointed at Frodo, "Are to come with me to see the higher ups. Mayhap you had something to do with this.and mayhap you didn't. They'll be the judges."  
  
"And you," he continued, pointing to Sam, "Are going to go with him. The two of you have been thick as thieves. There's something going on, we're going to get to the bottom of it."  
  
Each roughly seized one of the pair and hustled them off to a room in a tower of the fortress. Both were given a blanket and a soft tick of hay to sleep on, with word that on the marrow they would be spoken to. Sam sat against the wall, wrapped in his blanket, looking out the high window of his cell, until he finally fell asleep.  
  
The next morning, a plate of the usual fare was brought in for breakfast. Sam picked at his food, wondering more about how him and Mr. Frodo were going to get themselves out of this instead of filling his stomach. In a little while, the guard returned, taking the half empty plate from Sam with word that soon they would be questioned.  
  
Sam wondered what he would say. He knew that he couldn't say anything about the Ring, or the quest, but how would he explain Mr. Frodo suddenly reappearing after being overrun with Orcs? He could see how the guards were suspicious about the whole thing. He, himself, would have been.  
  
The door opened again, and a mixed group of men and hobbits filed in the narrow doorway. Sam and Frodo stood up to face the group. Before any of the newcomers could say anything, Frodo made a statement.  
  
"Before myself, or my servant, answer any of your questions, we want to see Mistress Durein or Master Blian. We have that right, we have done nothing wrong and are wrongly imprisoned here."  
  
One of the group stepped forward, a human, with kind eyes and dark hair. "I believe you may not have a choice in the matter. We suspect you may have had something to do with the raid last night. The Orcs were able to infiltrate our gates in some manner. That occurrence and your sudden reappearance are two strange things to happen in one night and not be related."  
  
"That may be, but neither of us will speak until we have seen either Mistress Durein or Master Blian." And Frodo turned and sat back against the wall, his mouth closed in a firm line.  
  
Sam glanced from the group to his master, and back again. He would follow Frodo's lead, for better or worse. He also sat down again, arms crossed on his chest.  
  
Bemusement flickered across their faces as they looked to each other. It was obvious from the attitude the two hobbits had assumed, they would get no answers until their demands were met. Almost as one, the assembled nodded and the spokesman turned to the captives.  
  
"Be it as it may, you will be questioned. But," and he paused, the others of his assemblage were leaving, "You will have the privilege of speaking with both the Mistress and Master." With that, the door was once more closed and locked behind him.  
  
"So, Mr. Frodo, you know what you're goin' to do then? What we're goin' to tell them?"  
  
"Sam, I have no idea. I just asked to see them to buy us some time until I figure it out."  
  
~TBC~ 


End file.
